Crimson
by Wholocklolly
Summary: In which Sherlock is unable to restrain himself any longer due to a certain fetish brought upon by a certain shade of red painted upon Molly Hooper's lips. - Shameless PWP.


**A/N: Just shameless PWP due to my wearing red lipstick last night and getting this idea that perhaps Sherlock would have a fetish for the stuff.**

**Dedicated to all those lovely ladies whose uterus' hate them. *hugs***

**Enjoy! **

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It had begun a short time after Sherlock revealed himself to the world as being alive, rather than dead. Molly had begun to gain a measure of self-confidence, and had loosened up a bit with her over-bearing practical ways.

She had begun to dress immeasurably nicer, her silk blouses clinging to her delicate curves underneath her lab coat, her heels accentuating her nice round arse. And from time to time, she would paint her lips red.

Those times had Sherlock squirming in his seat every time she turned away.

Not the least bit aware of what she did to Sherlock by applying that deep crimson shade of red to her not in the least bit small lips, Molly continued to do so, until one day, Sherlock could no longer contain himself.

Even when The Woman had worn that sinful shade, he wasn't able to keep his mind from roaming over fantasy after fantasy, the crimson of her lips marking a path down the pallor of his body. And now here was Molly, taunting him with her stained lips. He rarely took part in baser biological urges; however Molly was ruining his concentration.

So he showed up her flat late at night on a day she'd been especially generous with the crimson stain, and didn't even bother knocking.

Looking up quickly, obviously startled, Molly was curled up on her sofa wearing barely anything. She hadn't yet rubbed off the lipstick, and Sherlock growled lowly at the sight of her lip print on her wine glass sat on the coffee table.

"Sherlock, what in bloody hell are you doing?" she asked, drawing up a blanket quickly over her. She was watching some rubbish telly programme, so Sherlock took the liberty of switching off the telly altogether. Grabbing at her hand, he quickly drew her up, staring into her wide brown eyes.

"Vixen. You've been taunting me for ages with your crimson lips and low cut tops," he growled lowly, fingers looping round her wrists.

"I-I haven't the faintest idea what you're-"

Sherlock cut her off. "Go apply more lipstick." Molly was obviously about to protest but he quickly cut her off once more with a searing kiss to her lips.

Dumbly, she walked to her bedroom and applied more lipstick, returning a few moments later. Sherlock, as it seemed, was far too eager for her return, as he was already out of his clothes and sat on the sofa, stroking his cock.

Molly's mouth went a little dry, but she quickly moved towards him, crouching silently in front of him. His eyes were practically black, and blazed into her as he watched her carefully take his length in her hand, stroking him slowly. Her tongue poked out from between her red stained lips, and she licked at the head of his cock, causing Sherlock to groan lowly.

She pressed hot kisses all over his length, leaving bright red lipstick prints as she went, and Sherlock rolled up his hips as she did so, cock weeping and begging to be sucked. He loved the look of her lip prints on him, and carefully wound his fingers into her hair, urging her on.

Molly wrapped her lips around his cock initially, slowly easing him into her mouth. He could feel the walls of her cheeks and throat working to accept the intrusion, and she gagged a little as he hit the back of her throat when he thrust his hips up.

Slowly working him with her tongue and teeth, she bobbed her head carefully, smears of lipstick marring the skin of his length as she did so. Sherlock's gaze watched her heatedly, and he made noises every so often, finger tips pressing into her scalp.

It was far too soon that he felt his release building, so he pushed her off. She fell back on the floor a little harder than necessary, but Molly was only eager to apply more crimson stain. She pressed kisses to his right ankle, working her lips up his inner thigh and over his balls and his arse, then back down the other thigh to his opposite ankle.

She signalled for him to lie back and applied more lipstick, sitting down so she straddled his hips and kissed up from his cock all over his chest, stopping to suck and nip at his nipples before she marked his arms, and then his neck. More lipstick, and then her lips were all over his face and Sherlock was moaning and rolling up his hips slightly, ready to cum from the contact of her lips alone.

But she wouldn't have that. Climbing off him, she applied one final layer of lipstick and then stripped down her clothes, finding a condom in the bathroom before applying it to his cock and climbing astride him. Sherlock's were hot as he watched between them as his cock entered her, and Molly's lips were all over him as she rocked down on him.

The sounds and smells of their sex filled the air, along with the continual press of Molly's lips against Sherlock's neck and face.

Unable to hold on for much longer, Sherlock grappled at Molly's hips and flipped them over; pressing his lips hard to hers as he quickly thrust into her, pleased with the sounds of her mewls and moans. His fingers pressed against her clit, rubbing furiously at the swollen bud as he pounded into her.

He was already so close, so at the beginning of Molly's internal flutterings, he moaned loudly and with one final hard thrust, exploded into the condom, the orgasm so powerful his gaze went blurry for a minute. Molly followed shortly thereafter, and he collapsed atop her, utterly spent. They stayed that way for a long while, before Molly muttered, "I knew you had a thing for crimson."


End file.
